


Out of the Ashes into the Fire

by Scruggzi



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e12 Unnatural Habits, F/M, No more Prudence Interuptus, smutty AU, with FEELS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 17:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17854244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: Aunt Prudence was a few minutes later...





	Out of the Ashes into the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Firesign23 and AllisonWonderland *launches cake in your general direction*
> 
> AO3 ate some edits last night which I re-did today, so this fic is now _very_ subtly different to when I originally posted...

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jack’s fingers drummed a rhythm against the steering wheel as he tried and failed to subdue the maelstrom of conflicting emotions threatening to overwhelm his habitual stoicism. He had left his ex-wife in the care of her sister, shaken and wounded but unbroken. She would be leaving Melbourne, he guessed, probably soon, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. She did not deserve to suffer the inevitable social stigma her family connections would bring; none of this was her fault and he felt both intensely sorry for her, and painfully aware that his pity would do more harm than good.

He was not a man given to hyperbole, even in the privacy of his own head, but tonight had been nothing short of an epiphany. It had been on the drive home when it happened; the realisation that not only his marriage, but the whole chapter in his life that it represented, was over. The man he had idolised as an ambitious young constable determined to climb the ranks, the officer he had emulated as a detective keen to master his profession, was in custody and heading for jail. He was not, and possibly had never been, the man that Jack had admired.

Those rules, that way of living and working which he had learned so diligently from George Sanderson were no longer binding. It was not that he would have to find a new way to live, he was a grown man and an intelligent one. His father-in-law had been a profound influence on him, but he had found his own way years ago. It was simply that George had failed to live up to his ideals.

_And wasn’t that the understatement…_

He shuddered at the thought of what he might have lost tonight, the image of Phryne sprawled on the deck of the Pandarus, Fletcher’s gun trained on her. Jack hadn’t hesitated, would have shot him again without question if he could have done the night over; his only regret was missing the bastard’s head. He had not told Rosie the details of what had happened, unable to bring himself to deal that extra blow after all she had been through tonight. Protecting her from the hard choices and dangers of his job had become second nature during their marriage and there were some things she didn’t need to know.

Jack looked up at the lights of Wardlow; he had intended to drive to his little Richmond bungalow, but in his inattention had ended up here, outside Phryne’s home. She had offered him comfort once before, and he had resisted, knowing the consequences for their partnership; the cost to his heart and his self-respect would not have been worth it. If he went inside now, he did not think that he could hold himself back. Not this time.

He felt reckless. He wanted to dump all of his careful considerations of duty, honour, and consequences straight in the Yarra and just for once, for one blessed night, take what he wanted and to Hell with everything else. It was a terrible idea. He knew it, was watching himself as if from the outside as he walked up the path towards her front door to make what would surely be a wonderful and terrible mistake.

***

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound of his knuckles on the window made her turn her head, heart in her mouth. Had he come to tell her it was over? This…whatever this was between them was already uncharted territory for her, but she knew how these things went. There was, not a cost, but a balance to her freedom with men. She would not commit, would not be tied down – well sometimes, but only in the literal sense – and in return she recognised that she had no claim on them.

Rosie had sixteen years’ worth of claim on Jack and Phryne would not stand in the way if he wanted to return to her. More than anything, she wanted him to be happy.

_“Am I too late?”_

The layered meaning may or may not have been intended. Usually she was so very good at noticing that sort of thing. They had a rhythm of communication that let them convey many things simultaneously; an intellectual delight that few men were willing or capable of participating in. She hoped he was referring to more than just the hour but could not be certain. Nevertheless, she answered him in kind, hoping for rather than expecting reciprocation.

_“Never.”_

If he was truly willing to accept her for who she was, he would never be turned away. If he was a friend who needed her, she would welcome him with an open whisky decanter and a sadly empty bed.

_“She needed you, Jack Robinson. The man who always does the right thing, the noble thing.”_

She knew who he was, loved him for it even, although those feelings were new and complicated; more uncharted territory, full of the terror and excitement of the unknown. She would no more want to change him than he would her and she knew him to be cautious, too cautious perhaps to risk a heart, already bruised by the failure of his marriage.

_“Not always, Miss Fisher.”_

She saw him sway forward as he spoke, and then his lips were on hers and he was holding her close. She knew he was distraught, that in other circumstances he would not have given in; she knew she should pull back for his sake, but just couldn’t do it. He tasted so good and her whole being felt full, satisfied in a way she could never have articulated. She didn’t just want him, a handsome and intriguing man of her acquaintance, she wanted _him_. All of him for her own. A selfish and jealous love that frightened her even as it enticed; this was probably a terrible mistake, but she didn’t have it in herself to turn him away.

He was wearing far too many layers, all the way up to his overcoat. That wouldn’t do. Phryne did not consider herself a woman over-blessed with the milk of human kindness, but she knew this, knew the physical, knew how it could transform pain into catharsis. She wanted to do that for Jack. She wanted to pull him from the wreckage of his shattered world and give him a safe place to rest his head.

They sank into that kiss, something beautiful that all the death and horror of this case could never touch. Phryne couldn’t help herself – somehow, she had worked her way under his coat and brushed it from his shoulders and his hat too had fallen to her wandering hands.  

He pulled away, still unsmiling, apparently searching her face for a response, for conformation that this was truly what she wanted. Her expression softened, no banter, no teasing, this was not the night, not the time. She took a deep breath and let him see just how much she wanted him.

“Nightcap?” her voice was a whisper, unsteady.

He nodded, the slightest movement of his head, no expression in the line of his mouth but perhaps the slightest hint of hope around the eyes and followed her quietly up the stairs...

A few moments of silence passed, underlined by the faintest snick of the lock on Phryne’s bedroom door. It was broken, minutes later by an irritable whine from the new-born, still sleeping fitfully in the parlour.

_“Was that the baby?”_

Prudence Stanley entered the hallway and was utterly scandalised by the sight that met her eyes. A man’s hat and coat, a hat and coat she most certainly recognised, were lying in a crumpled heap on the stairs. She glowered at them for a moment then placed them on the hooks where they belonged.

The baby gave a louder wail, properly awake now and hungry; Mary was still in need of some instruction when it came to feeding him, although the girl did appear to be a quick learner.

_“I’m coming, little man.”_

_Really,_ Prudence thought, there were more important things to worry about tonight than Phryne's impropriety with that dour policeman. She would just have to have words with her niece in the morning.

***

Clothes gone and whiskey abandoned, they fucked like it was their last night on earth. An incoherent tangle of limbs and lips, teeth and tongues, writhing and merging with no thought for any consequences the morning might bring.

Phryne was on her back, one hand fisting in Jack’s hair, the other gripping his arse tight and pulling him in closer as he pounded into her. She had already come twice at the mercy of his fingers and tongue and her mind was an exquisite blank, her body firmly behind the wheel. She kissed his closed eyelids and licked up the sweat that trailed down his neck where she could feel his heartbeat close to the surface. The sounds that escaped her were barely human, strangled moans and cries as she gave in entirely to the feel of him inside and around her. She wanted him, needed him, close. As deep in her body as he was in her heart, where his sarcasm and his sly smiles and his beautiful, brilliant mind had apparently taken up residence - despite all her attempts to dislodge them with coyness and flirtation - as stubborn and unflappable as the man himself.

Jack’s mind was in chaos. Sex had never been like this for him before. He had always taken pride in taking charge, staying in control and ensuring is partner’s pleasure before succumbing to his own. There was no control here, no planning for the next moment. Only the now, only the scrape of Phryne’s nails down his back, hard enough to draw blood, and feel of her warm and tight and irresistible as he lost himself over and over in her embrace.

Her moans became demands, pleas, accolades; _‘harder, more, yes, yes, Jack, Jaaaack!’_

Everyone in the household must know what they were doing by now and he did not give a damn. Let them judge him if they wanted. This moment would be worth it a thousand times over.

Her head was pressed back into the pillows exposing the line of her neck and he bent his lips to it, running tongue and teeth along the exposed tendons before sucking that perfect, smooth skin into his mouth hard enough to bruise.

The feel of his mouth at her neck was what pushed her over. She rarely let the men she bedded mark her, but this felt like a gift; the little sparks of pain as his lips and teeth nipped at her, merged with her pleasure and the fullness in her heart. She gave in to it, drowning in ecstasy and the sound of curses falling from her own lips, her legs locking hard around his hips to keep him inside her as she shook and pulsed around him.

His kisses, softened, gentle flutters of his lips against hers as he stroked her cheek. He had not come with her, holding off with a herculean effort, wanting this night to go on forever. The tension around his eyes and the sharp line of his jaw was offset by a look of such tenderness she could hardly bare to meet his eyes.

_How could she ever be even a fraction of what she saw reflected in his face as he looked at her?_

She felt overwhelmed, the force of her climax had left her light headed and without any of her usual defences. There was only that love, desperate, intense, that determination to take the soft, vulnerable heart she had uncovered beneath his layers of world-weary cynicism and protect it with all the fierce joy within her nature.

She couldn’t hide it from him, even if she had been in a fit state to obfuscate, he was too good a detective not to read her expression in that moment and his surprise was almost unbearable. _Had he thought he was alone in this?_ Yet he had come to her anyway.

Not trusting herself to speak, Phryne responded once again with the language of the physical, kissing him with slow deliberation, squeezing his still hard cock inside her with aching muscles and rolling him to his back. She kept that pace as she made love to him, slow and close. In this position her hands had greater access to his chest and belly, his arms, his wrists. She moved above him with strength and purpose as she carefully catalogued every beautiful feature she could reach. She wanted to love every part of him, as he deserved to be loved, even if he decided the risk to his heart was too much and couldn’t bring himself to stay beyond tonight.

Jack had been barely holding on as he watched Phryne climax beneath him, his determination to see her fully satisfied the only thing keeping him together. He had not expected this, this quiet, thorough exploration, every kiss and touch of her hand a silent reassurance; you are loved, you are wanted, you are mine. He felt as if he was floating far above his body, listening to the soft gasps of her name that escaped his lips. It was a loss of control of an entirely different kind as he relinquished his pleasure to Phryne’s care and let himself be loved.

Sated for the moment, Phryne allowed herself to luxuriate in Jack’s body, rocking her hips in gentle undulations, squeezing him from the inside, letting her lips sip softly at his jaw, her teeth nipping at the delicate flesh of his ears, her tongue delighting in that tiny hollow at the base of his throat that begged for her attention. She sat back on her heels, giving her the leverage for longer stokes and _oh god_ he felt so good inside her it was like a dream. From here her hands could wander further; she watched her fingers as they traced little circles around his nipples, watched his skin flush as her name ghosted past his lips, saw him shudder in pleasure as she traced the deep V of muscle that led inexorably down to the place where they were joined, his mouth agape, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Do you like that, Jack?” she whispered, leaning down again so her lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Do you like it when I touch you there?”

“Oh God, yes.” He was too far gone to hide behind a witty retort.

“Mmmm, so do I. In fact,” she clambered off him, and he whimpered at the loss of contact, “I think I ought to take a closer look.”

She bent her lips to his belly, teasing and tasting but unable to resist for long. Her hands had found his throbbing cock, burning hot from the friction of their bodies and wet with their combined arousal. She let her tongue trail slowly down towards it, tracing that delicious imprint, down one side then back up the other, loving the way the action made him shake and moan as he began to thrust uncontrollably into her hand. On her third trip down she fastened her lips around the head of his cock and the sound he made could have woken the whole neighbourhood.

Jack felt the breath saw in and out of his lungs as he watched Phryne Fisher lick her own fluids of his cock. Somewhere at the back of his mind he thought he should stop her, should hold back and focus on her pleasure; the thought was drowned out very effectively by the things she was doing with her tongue. He could do nothing but beg her helplessly for more as her wicked mouth and clever fingers dismantled the last remaining shreds of his self-control; release washed over him in a tide of pleasure both exquisite and overwhelming that had his hands fisting into the bedsheets and his vision full of stars, his shout of ecstasy rattling the glass of the windows.

“Are you alright, Jack?” Phryne sounded rather more smug than actually worried, but the expression on her face was soft, and one of her hands was resting against his chest as if she was counting his racing heartbeats.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he replied, which was probably a mistake that would only encourage her, but he didn’t have the energy left for anything but honesty.

“Good!” she was grinning at him now, apparently delighted with that response. “In that case you won’t be going anywhere.”

“You want me to stay?” he could hear the hope in his own voice as he said it.

“And help me face Aunt Prudence in the morning? I suspect we may have alerted the household to this new development in our partnership.”

He did not miss the tentative suggestion that this might be more than a gaudy night, and a slow smile spread across his face. He sucked in his cheeks in a futile effort to feign irritation at her suggestion.

“It sounds a lot less appealing when you put it like that.”

 “But you’ll stay?”

She was still not quite ready to believe that it was her, with her fickle heart and reckless ways, that he truly wanted. She had been so sure only hours ago that he had given her up, forgiven their differences and let Rosie back into his heart.

“Of course.” _Forever if I thought you’d let me._

“You don’t have to. If you would rather go?” _We both needed this, you don’t owe me anything._

“Phryne, I…I nearly lost you tonight. I don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“And I’m still here, thanks to you.” She took a breath, her voice lightening slightly. “That was a marvellous shot by the way. I never had the chance to thank you.”

 “Gratitude, Miss Fisher?” He made an exaggerated show of pinching his own arm as if to check if he were dreaming, which she countered with a look of pure sarcasm. 

Unable to leave it at that when they had come so far, Jack reached up and gently tucked her mussed hair behind her ear.

“You would have done the same.” Of that, he was absolutely certain.

Phryne suspected that had it had been her with the gun and Jack in danger, Fletcher would have been dead before he hit the water but decided to let that go. A shot in the dark like that was as likely to kill as wound, and the sentiment was the same.

She held his eyes, momentarily serious as she replied. “In a heartbeat.”

He kissed her deeply, lovingly, no intent beyond reminding both of them that they were here, together, alive, whole and they had found each other. The rest could work itself out in the morning.

“Are _you_ alright?”

She had been inches from death, but somehow, he hadn’t thought to ask.

Apparently, the idea that being in a criminal’s gunsight should unnerve her hadn’t occurred to Phryne either because she responded, “A little sore, but it was worth it.” And winked at him.

Jack closed his eyes for a second and allowed the smile that began in his heart to blossom over his face. That was Phryne all over, unconquered and unparalleled; the hero he never knew he needed.

He kissed her again, because he could and because he couldn’t help it. Tomorrow there would be consequences, but tomorrow was a long way off, and for this brief, shining moment, he would let himself indulge in the wonderful, beautiful improbability of the now.

After the day they had had, both of them had surely earned it.


End file.
